For My Sister
by Catmint
Summary: Life has changed for the NCIS family but some things linger. Paths intertwine to bring past and present together, creating new directions for some and revealing the previously-hidden. A face from the past is set to have an impact on the world.
1. Chapter 1

**For My Sister**

 **Disclaimer:** Not my property. All recognisable characters belong to CBS.

It's been some time since I posted anything but I'm back! Between my Creative Writing MA, research for a novel and an Asperger's book and now planning a wedding (in less than four months' time now…!) I've not been writing much fanfic. Also, I'm working on Aftermath: Rebuilding Lives, which is the sequel to my post-season-9-finale fic Aftermath: Irrevocable Changes. I will finish Rebuilding Lives, but I never post a fic until I've finished writing it.

Started working on this back in January and have finally finished it (re-finished, seeing as I managed to accidentally delete the entire middle section…). Obviously we don't know yet what's happened to Gibbs, so he's recovered from the injuries sustained in the season 12 finale in this story; thus, set early June 2015.

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Chapter 1

The dark-haired woman in his living room ended the call on her phone, then turned to face him and smiled, her relief perfectly apparent. "It is now officially mine," she announced, putting the phone back into her pocket.

"When can you move in?"

"Five weeks." The smile on her face broadened. "Soon I shall be out of your…hair?"

He nodded briefly. "Gonna miss you."

She frowned a little in confusion. "I will only be one street away; it is not as if I will be living on the other side of the country."

He shrugged and gave her a wry smile. "Kinda got used to having one of my kids in the house again."

Her eyes widened. "I did not mean…"

He waved it away, chuckling a little, then gestured to her to approach. When she was within reach, he pulled her into a tight bear-hug. "It's good to have you back, Ziver."

*12*12*12*12*12*12*12*12*

At five minutes past seven, the lift let out its trademark _ding_ and Special Agent Timothy McGee glanced towards it over the head of Probationary Agent Ellie Bishop. His gaze settled on a hunched-over Special Agent Tony DiNozzo scuttling towards his desk, eyes darting from side to side. "You're late, Tony."

"And it's only Monday," added Bishop, leaning back in her chair, shaking her head.

Tony dropped his bag behind his desk, still looking around the squadroom. "Boss here yet?" When McGee gave him a look that clearly said, _are you kidding me?_ Tony relented. "OK, OK, I guess it was too much to ask. Where is he?" He hastily glanced over his shoulder, relaxing at the absence of his boss.

"In with the Director," Bishop informed him, returning to her intense scrutiny of the document on her computer. "Has been since before I got here at six."

Tony gave her a disbelieving look. "Why were you even _here_ at that time?"

"Breakfast with Abby." Something on her screen caught her attention and she drifted away from the conversation.

A quick check of the upper level overlooking the squadroom reassured Tony that despite the sense that he was being watched, it was not actually the case, and he switched on his computer. "Hey, McGee, is it just me or has the boss been acting weird the last few days?"

McGee rolled his eyes. "Weird how?"

"It's almost like he's _happy_. Definitely in a better mood than he has been for the last few months."

"Tony, if you're going to begin another speculation on Gibbs' love life and the latest redhead you think you saw him with, I will _not_ be part of it," warned McGee. His expression abruptly changed and he turned back to his computer.

Recognising the look, Tony began looking busy by going through his desk drawers. He lifted up a file – and froze. The overhead lights glimmered off the dainty gold chain and Star of David necklace that lived there, a constant reminder of the last nine years and his own painful loss. _She's not dead, DiNozzo,_ he reminded himself. _She'll call when she's ready._

A throat being cleared brought him out of his reflections and he raised his head. "Hi, Boss!" he said, mustering fake enthusiasm. Gibbs cocked his head to one side and the grin dropped from Tony's face. "Sorry I'm late, Boss."

Gibbs regarded him for a moment, then went over to his desk, coffee in hand, and nodded to McGee. "Any news from Norfolk about the UA petty officer?"

McGee, still going through his emails, held up a hand. "Harper said he'd email me…" He squinted at the screen until he found what he was looking for. "He's checking out a reported sighting up in Maine today, says he'll let me know."

"Director's being hounded by the petty officer's wife," Gibbs informed him. "Might want us to go up there."

"That why you were up with Vance?" asked Tony.

Gibbs gave him a brief nod as he sat down at his desk, just as an email popped up on his screen. After skimming through it, he forwarded it to Tony. "Need you to get everything you can on this guy," he told his senior field agent.

"On it, Boss." With that, Tony got to work. He was convinced that Gibbs was keeping something from them but knew better than to push when his boss was clearly unwilling to give anything away, especially with a missing petty officer to find.

*12*12*12*12*12*12*12*12*

Ending the fifteenth long call of the morning, Ziva put the phone down on Gibbs' kitchen table and buried her head in her hands, emitting a deep sigh. It was barely lunchtime and she was already exhausted. Although everything was just about ready and in place, she was desperate for it to go perfectly and was paranoid that _something_ would go wrong. A break would do her good, she decided; she pushed her laptop to one side while it shut down and gathered the various papers together. It was time for a run.

Fifteen minutes later, she was already feeling more relaxed and it showed in her run. The June sun was pleasantly warm on her face but the East Coast early-summer breeze was sharp enough to keep her cool as she steadily made her way along her chosen route. The neighbourhood was nice, the route options variable, the air clean. All the jumbled thoughts and emotions were starting to untangle and she allowed herself to begin to work through them as she ran. Being back in DC. Her plans. Staying with Gibbs. Rebuilding her life. And the hippo in the room. No, that wasn't right. Giraffe? Rhino?

Whichever animal it was, was irrelevant. It had been nearly two years since they had last spoken, on the tarmac at Ben Gurion airport. Would he even want her back in his life? Maybe this was a mistake. Although it would probably be easy enough to avoid him now that she was steering her life in a very different direction, it would always be hanging in the air, awkward, tense.

On she ran, barely taking in her route or the distance she was covering as she attempted to process the muddle in her head and heart, until she eventually decided to talk it through with Gibbs that evening. At least, she would talk and he would nod and make a variety of facial expressions with the occasional word. Yes, that was best.

*12*12*12*12*12*12*12*12*

Walking into his house that evening, Gibbs could tell that something was bothering his youngest surrogate daughter, from the delicious, varied smells emanating from his kitchen, so he shut the front door and strode straight towards the aromas.

Sensing his presence, she turned around, an uncooked pie in her hands. "You did not go to Norfolk."

Gibbs shook his head. "Sent McGee and Bishop. What's for dinner?"

"Take your pick." She put the pie into the oven and glanced at her watch, noting the time, then checked the temperature of the oven. She knew she was stalling, suddenly nervous now that Gibbs was home, and she bit her lip. Before she turned to face him again, she took a deep breath and calmed herself.

"What's that pie?" he asked, gesturing to one that sat on a cooling rack in a corner.

"My mother's recipe. Lamb and a mixture of vegetables," she explained.

"Perfect. Anything I can do?"

"Just get some plates."

A few minutes later they were sitting down across the table from each other, Gibbs with a beer and Ziva a glass of water. He took a bite, then pointed his fork at the food, nodding emphatically. This earned him a hint of a smile from the woman opposite, who sat with her head cradled in her hand and fork pushing food around her plate, making no attempt to eat. He put down his fork and reached out to place his hand over hers, stilling the motion. "What's up?"

But she shook her head and stared at her meal, the fork clattering on the plate as it slipped from her hand. Her appetite had gone completely, replaced by a tight knot in her stomach. She had hoped that by focusing on cooking, she could distract herself enough – and while she had been busy, it had worked. But now she had stopped, she could no longer hold back the thoughts.

"C'mon, Ziva, talk to me."

She swallowed hard and chewed on her lip.

"Something wrong with Friday?"

She pulled a face. "Yes and no."

"The venue or the people?"

She could feel his eyes boring into her but the words stuck in her throat and she pushed her plate away, the smell now making her feel slightly sick.

"This about DiNozzo?"

She stayed silent, not trusting herself to speak.

"He on the invite list?" His eyes scanned the part of her face that he could see, gleaning as much information as was possible. Her brief nod told him plenty. "You should talk to him. Before Friday."

For the first time, she raised her head, blinking rapidly as she attempted to keep the rising tears at bay. "What do I say?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Gibbs got to his feet and went over to her, kneeling down so that he was on the same level as her, and met her eyes. "Same as you told me when I got home a few weeks ago to find you in my basement without prior warning."

She only half-succeeded in suppressing a snort. "That was a lot easier than…than _this_." She averted her gaze.

"You'll find a way." He caressed her cheek, then kissed her forehead. "Gotta be easier than last time you came back."

A wry smile broke out on her face; she accepted the offered tissue and wiped her eyes. He had a point. "I guess. I just… Maybe I should not have come back."

"Well, you did." He put a hand under her chin and raised her head a little "You came home to your family. Talk to DiNozzo." He got back to his feet. "You gonna eat anything?"

She hesitated, all too aware of the knot still in her stomach, and shook her head. "I am not hungry. I think I will go to bed." She stood up and gave Gibbs a brief hug before leaving the room for the bedroom that had become hers. It did not take her long to get ready for bed and she curled up under the covers, hoping the turmoil of thoughts in her head would dissipate.

They did not; it was a long time before sleep claimed her.

*12*12*12*12*12*12*12*12*

Gibbs was already at his desk when McGee wandered in at quarter to seven the next morning. "Morning, McGee."

"Uh… Morning, Boss." McGee decided that Tony had been right: there was definitely something different about him. He smiled at Gibbs and cast a quick glance around the squadroom. "Bishop not in yet?" An arch of an eyebrow was enough. "I guess not." He got to his desk, about to drop his bag on the floor when something on the desk caught his eye: a simple, pale-green envelope with just his name printed on it. "Boss, what's this?"

Another quirk of his boss's eyebrows said enough; McGee picked up the envelope and was about to open it when the lift doors opened, revealing an irate Ducky, tugging Tony behind him as he stalked out of the lift, hand firmly gripping the senior agent's ear. Tony was pulling a variety of comical, agonised expressions. Looks were exchanged between the other two and McGee shook his head.

"I caught Anthony trying to sneak out of Autopsy after having set several ticking clocks in various drawers. Mr. Palmer believed they were bombs," huffed the doctor, abruptly stopping and twisting Tony's ear further; the agent let out a squeak. "Then when I opened the drawers to investigate, I was met by streamers in my face." He tugged again and Tony yelped; Ducky released the ear and meted out a headslap. Apparently satisfied, Ducky gave Gibbs a brief nod.

A now-subdued Tony edged away from the ME and shuffled towards his desk. Ducky stalked off to the lift, returning to Autopsy. Once the doctor had disappeared, Tony put his bag down, rubbing his ear. "He overreacted," he grumbled. "Hey, what's this?" He picked up the pale-green envelope on his desk.

"I got one too," said McGee. He peered across the aisle. "So did Bishop."

"You get one, Boss?" When Gibbs shook his head, face unreadable, the two agents began to open their envelopes.

"I have cake!" announced a bright and cheerful Bishop as she entered the team's area, holding it aloft. Tony's eyes instantly lit up and he forgot about the envelope.

"What's the occasion?" asked McGee.

"One of my brothers and his wife are staying with us for a few days. Gemma likes to bake. A _lot_. If we keep it all at home it goes stale before we can eat it all."

Tony cackled as he reached out a hand towards the box "The DiNozzo Cake Devourer mode has been activated." This declaration prompted unanimous eye-rolling.

Bishop carefully placed the cake box on her desk and caught sight of the pale-green envelope sitting there. "Ooooh, what's this?" Her question reminded the other two and all three agents turned their attention to opening their envelopes.

The first person to extract the item from the envelope was Bishop. "It's an invitation."

"For what?" asked McGee, pausing.

Bishop tucked her hair behind her ear. "It's the launch of some foundation thing. The Tali David Peace Foundation?" She pronounced the name the standard American way.

"Dah- _veed_ ," corrected Gibbs, Tony and McGee in unison.

Scrunching up her face in confusion, Bishop's eyes darted back and forth between the other three. "Who?"

Tony and McGee exchanged looks, neither wanting to broach the subject, and Tony ran his hand through his hair. Realising what was going on, Gibbs got to his feet and gestured towards Bishop's desk. "Agent before you. Tali was her sister."

Tony cleared his throat, finding his voice. "She died in a Hamas suicide bombing when she was sixteen."

"Oh. That must've been hard," said Bishop, not sure what to say. "I mean, my brothers and I fought a lot but if one of them got killed…"

But McGee's thinking was going along a different route as he skimmed the invitation and he turned to Gibbs, frowning. "Uh, Boss – does this mean Ziva's back in DC?"

A brief nod from Gibbs.

Tony and McGee exchanged surprised looks; McGee was the first to speak. "Since when?"

"A while."

"But why hasn't she been in touch?" McGee's face was a mixture of confusion and hurt.

"Busy sorting out things for the foundation."

Finally Tony found his voice. "Where's she staying?"

"That's her business. McGee, case update." His tone was brisk and firm; his agents knew that now was not the time to push this subject further so they turned their attention to the case.

For Tony, though, it was only a half-hearted effort as he tried to process Gibbs' revelation and the turmoil of emotions that had hit him with it. _Almost two years_ , he mused. Did he want to see her? _Could_ he see her? Perhaps more to the point, did _she_ want to see _him_? He tugged his invitation further out of its envelope and furrowed his brow as a piece of white card emerged with it. Discreet glances at Bishop and McGee's desks told him that it was not common to all three of them. McGee was still talking, with Bishop occasionally interjecting, so he took the card out completely. This one, unlike the invitation, was handwritten.

Ziva's handwriting.

 _Tony –_

 _I need to see you before the launch. Thursday 8pm, Anna's Kitchen._

– _Z_

He knew the place. They used to go to the always-open café occasionally after work, just the two of them. Clearly she was keen to use neutral ground; he couldn't really blame her.

 _Smack_. Gibbs' hand made contact – hard – with the back of his head. "You got anything to add, DiNozzo?" he demanded, raising his eyebrows as high as they would go. The shake of McGee's head and the wince on Bishop's face told him that it was not the first time Gibbs had asked the question.

"Uh…" He put the card and invitation down on his desk. "Sorry, Boss."

"Again, McGee." With the prompt from Gibbs, McGee shot a glare at Tony, sighed and grudgingly repeated himself. This time Tony forced himself to pay attention.

*12*12*12*12*12*12*12*12*

It was barely ten minutes later when the lift doors opened and Abby exploded into the squadroom, brandishing a piece of pale green card. "What. The _hell_. Is _this_?" she demanded. The squadroom fell silent and several people shrank away from her general proximity. She stopped between Tony and Bishop's desks and stamped her foot. Tony turned to McGee and pulled a face at him that said, _Oh crap…_

Bishop, unaware of most of what had happened, merely looked confused. "It's an invitation," she said.

Abby whirled round, bunches smacking her in the face, and glared at Bishop. "I can see _that_." She slammed the invitation down on Bishop's desk and fixed her eyes on Gibbs. "What the _hell_ is she playing at?"

"I haven't –"

"Not _you_!" Abby jabbed her finger towards the offending piece of card. "She leaves us – _abandons_ us! – with no warning and not so much as a good-bye and doesn't bother to contact us _at all_ , she lets Tony chase her all over the Middle East and then throws back in our faces everything we've ever done for her, and now she expects us to drop everything for her?"

McGee took a step forward. "Abby –"

"Don't _defend_ her, McGee!" Abby's eyes were ablaze now that she had worked herself up so much. " _She_ left _us_ , not the other way around! Does she seriously think she can just pretend like the last two years never happened and that we'll immediately pick up right where we left off? Because I sure as hell don't and one of you can tell her that I'd rather be _dead_ than seen at her damn event!"

She spun round and stormed back to the lift, almost knocking Ducky and Palmer flying like skittles as they exited and she entered the lift. The ME and his assistant exchanged looks of raised eyebrows and Palmer's face went pale. "Uh, guys, what was that about?" he asked, gesturing towards the lift, Abby now out of sight as the doors closed.

McGee held up his invitation. "Did you guys get one of these each?"

"Yes," replied Ducky. "We were just coming to discuss the matter. I had no idea the dear girl was back in DC."

"She wanted it kept quiet," Gibbs informed him.

"Abby hasn't exactly taken it well," added McGee, nodding towards the lift.

"Ziva said she wouldn't understand," said Tony softly.

"I'm sure Abigail will come round," Ducky assured him, patting the senior agent's arm.

"In time for Friday?"

Ducky sighed. "Of that, I cannot be sure."

*12*12*12*12*12*12*12*12*

 **~TBC~**


	2. Chapter 2

**For My Sister**

 **Disclaimer:** Not my property. All recognisable characters belong to CBS. (Claire is mine.)

Thank you to my kind reviewers and followers. I hope you enjoy this as much as the first chapter. There is one more to come, which will go up probably on Tuesday or Wednesday.

This is a long one but I couldn't break it up.

Abby will eventually get over herself – but whether or not it's in time for Friday's event remains to be seen.

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Chapter 2

At half-past seven on Thursday evening, Ziva pulled her car into the parking area for Anna's Kitchen. She knew she was early, but she wanted to allow plenty of time to prepare herself. She had spent some time being indecisive about what to wear, changing outfits multiple times, and had eventually settled on some smart black trousers and a cardigan and her favourite blue top. She had eventually settled on putting her hair up in a simple ponytail.

For once, despite her nerves, she had not broken the speed limit on her way over – she no longer had a badge to flash at any cops that happened to stop her so she couldn't feign a case.

Turning off the engine of her car she looked herself in the eye via the mirror. "No turkeying out of this one, David," she ordered herself, voice steadier than she felt.

She stepped into the café and glanced around; other than two tables in the middle of the room, the place was quiet and the Fifties and Sixties pop music soft in the background, the open windows nullifying any need for the air-conditioning. It had not changed in the almost two years since she had last been here. Thankfully, she noted, the end booth she had had in mind was empty and nobody was sat anywhere near it; she headed straight to it and sat down where she could see the door. A moment later Claire, the café's proprietor, was at the table, notebook in hand and smile on her face. "Haven't seen you for a while."

Ziva nodded briefly. "I have been…away."

"Can I get you anything?"

"Just some tea." She wasn't hungry, too nervous about the prospect of seeing Tony again. She barely noticed Claire departing and then returning shortly afterwards with a pot of tea and a mug. Sensing Ziva's need for solitude, Claire left her to it.

At two minutes to eight, the bell above the door jingled and a man stepped in. Ziva's breath caught in her throat – Tony. She watched him glance around for a moment until he spotted her; when he did, their eyes met for a moment and he made his way over to her, sliding onto the seating across the table from her. Though she could feel his gaze burning into her, she did not – _could_ not – meet it, instead focusing her attention on the mug in front of her.

A movement on the periphery of his vision caught Tony's attention and he turned his head to see Claire's approach; after a brief shake of his head, she changed direction and started towards another table instead. Their privacy secured, he turned his attention to the woman in front of him. "So. You're back in DC."

Unable to speak, she nodded. If she was honest with herself, she had half-expected him not to come. And she wouldn't have blamed him if he'd made that decision. She wrapped her hands around the empty mug, focusing on the remnants of her tea.

"I thought I'd never see you again."

She nodded again and pushed the mug away from herself, unsure of what to say.

"You know, since I left Israel, I've gone over in my mind a million times what I'd say to you if I ever saw you again. How I'd say it. Where I'd say it. And I'm no closer now to knowing what to say than I was then. I've been trying to figure out what I could have said to get you to come with me but every time I just come up blank. I was angry, upset, confused. Still am, to be honest."

"You have every right to be," she told him. For the first time since he had walked into the diner, she raised her eyes to meet his. The anger and bitterness she had expected to see in them were completely absent; only worry and tenderness were there, taking her by surprise. "I do not blame you for it. But know this, Tony: there is nothing – _nothing_ – you could have said or done that would have persuaded me to come back with you. It was something I had to do. I had to take some time for myself. I told you I had to let go of the badge, and I did have to. I needed a complete break, a fresh start. And I had to do it _alone_."

"Then why did you come back?"

Ziva leaned back, closed her eyes and exhaled, clutching her hands together in her lap. "After you left, I spent a lot of time with my Aunt Nettie, my father's sister – you remember her?"

Tony grimaced as he recalled the awkward phone conversation he had inadvertently had with the woman not long after Ziva had first come to NCIS. "Yeah…"

For the first time, Ziva's eyes sparkled a little, before dimming again. "We still had to finish putting some of my father's affairs in order. That, and she was about the only living member of my family who will still have anything to do with me.

"Aunt Nettie and I spent a great deal of time talking. One of the things we talked about a lot was something we had never really talked about before, things that have been long buried, that were too painful. We talked a lot about family – my cousin Menucha, Aunt Nettie's daughter…She died in the same incident that killed Tali." She took a deep breath to steady and collect herself, forcing back the tears that even many years later stung as painfully as they had done the day she first got the news. She knew Tony was watching her intently but she did not dare look at him in case she lost her composure. Fidgety, she put her hands back around the mug.

There was nothing he could think of to say, knowing how much she still missed her little sister. Besides, silence often worked well for them.

"They were on their way to a peace rally when the suicide bomber detonated. He was only a few feet away from them." Her voice cracked and she jumped when Tony put one of his hands over hers, then offered him a wavering smile. "Tali – she dreamed of becoming a famous opera singer and using her fame to help bring about world peace. She was an idealist. She hated what our father did and never hesitated to tell him what she thought of it." A comfortable silence fell over them as she reflected on the conversations – and arguments – that had ensued. "That was what gave us the idea to start the Foundation."

Tony gave her a warm smile. "That's amazing. But why come back to DC? Why not stay in Israel?"

Ziva picked up a packet of sugar and began playing with it, needing the distraction. "Talking with Aunt Nettie made me realise that it is not possible to truly start afresh."

He knew from the way she was fiddling and avoiding looking at him that there was more. "You're holding back."

Damn, she'd forgotten how well he could read her. "Aunt Nettie became very frail very quickly. In October she had a severe stroke. She…she held on for eleven days but she never woke up."

"Oh jeez, I'm sorry."

"I wish you could have met her in person."

"Hmmm. Depends if she ever forgave me for mistaking her for an unwanted admirer."

Ziva let out a snort of amusement. "Oh yes, long ago. She found the whole misunderstanding greatly amusing." She sobered. "Once she passed, it was left to me to sort out her affairs. After that, I had no reason to remain – Israel is not my home any more and I realised that it had not been for a very long time. I made America – DC – my home when I resigned from Mossad and applied for US citizenship, perhaps even before then. I am keeping the family house out there – it is useful as a secondary base of operations and there is also the sentimental reason." She was surprised at how sentimental she had become – she had never had that luxury before.

"That makes sense."

"I have been staying with Gibbs since I came back, while I sort myself out with my own place, which will be in the next few weeks. I decided to use some of the money my father left me to buy a house – that way I do not have to worry about rent or a mortgage, so I can focus completely on the Foundation."

His jaw dropped and he blinked rapidly at her, stunned at the way she had dropped that nugget into the conversation as casually as if she had been talking about buying a DVD. "Whoa whoa _whoa_! You bought a house? As in flat out, paid-in-full _bought a house_?"

She nodded. "Yes. I did. It is near to Gibbs – there was a lovely place going on the next road over. I am putting as much as I can of the remaining money into the Foundation – it was Tali's inheritance too, after all."

"Wow." He sat back, trying to get his head round this news. "So you're planning to stick around, then."

"Yes" She met his eyes for a moment. "I am going nowhere, Tony."

"Good." He regarded her intently, trying to work out how to broach the subject they had both been carefully avoiding. He'd spent a lot of time since getting her note and invitation thinking about the matter and how to put it into words.

Sensing the change in his mood, Ziva dropped the sugar sachet and let her hands fall into her lap, staring at them as she began twisting them together, unaware of Tony's wince. She knew what was coming, where this was going, and one of them had to initiate the conversation. A quick glance at Tony affirmed that he had no idea how to do this, so she took a deep breath and swallowed hard, steeling herself. "You and I both know there is a rhinoceros in the room."

"Rhinoc –? _Elephant_ , Ziva. It's an _elephant_ in the room." The correction slipped out automatically – and suddenly it was as though the last two years had never happened, that things were still the way they were before her father's assassination, before Parsons and Parsa and Mishnev and everything else that had gone on.

" _Whatever_ animal it is!" she shot back. "I do not care and that is beside the point. The point _is_ that there is a – an _elephant_ – in the room."

"Sorry. Old habits die hard, I guess."

She nodded and stared down at her hands, twisting her fingers together. She could feel Tony's eyes on her but could not look at him, a tight knot forming in her stomach.

"You remember what we talked about on the tarmac at the airport?"

She swallowed hard. "Of course." Her voice came out as a whisper.

"You remember what else happened that night?"

"How could I forget?" Her voice cracked and she twisted her fingers together more tightly. The memory of that night was seared into her brain, impossible to erase. Their conversation, what Tony did, his touch, her almost-overwhelming desire to give in and follow him onto that plane and back to DC, every single emotion from that night as fresh and raw now as it had been back then. Unconsciously she continued the twisting.

When they emitted a loud click, Tony, alarmed, slipped out of his side of the booth and in beside her, placing a hand over her fingers. "That must hurt," he commented.

She shrugged. "Not really." She twisted them again; Tony winced at the loud _snap_.

"Could you stop? It sounds painful."

"Sorry." She pressed her hands together in her lap and stared at them, trying to organise the thoughts whirling around her head. What was Tony going to say to her? Was he going to tell her that it was a mistake? That having her back in DC would serve only to complicate his life?

Realising that this was not going to be easy, Tony put his free hand under her chin and turned her head so that she was facing him – though she still did not meet his gaze, and that hurt him deeply. "Do you remember what I said a few years ago? Thirsty beyond all imagination, throat like sandpaper, trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey and shot full of a modified version of sodium pentathol?"

She stiffened and wrenched her head from his hold, turning her whole body away from him. Those were memories she had no desire to dredge up ever again, memories that for early six years had remained securely locked behind a very thick wall in her mind. He knew that; why was he still doing it? "I remember," she murmured, fighting back the tears that were now threatening as the events of that summer flooded back unbidden; her wrists burned with the memory of rope chafing them, her face throbbed as she re-felt the punches, her abdomen ached as her body relived the abuse it had undergone.

 _Crap_. Guilt crashed down on Tony as he watched her reaction and how she instinctively curled in on herself. He'd just royally screwed this one up; how did he rescue this conversation now? Touching her was out of the question – he preferred to continue his record of not ending up in the ER – but how to pull her out of where her head had gone? Something that was his fault? Deciding on his next move, he took a deep breath and placed his hand on the table beside her, within her field of vision but without making any physical contact. "I'm sorry, Ziva, I didn't mean…"

"I know." Her words were barely audible as she fought to maintain her self-control and began twisting her fingers again. "I – I remember what you said."

"Look at me, Ziva. Please." He needed her to do so in order for this conversation to continue. They needed to have it.

She bit her lip to further ground herself, then adhered to his request, slowly easing herself around in her seat and hesitantly raising her head. Her voice trembled as she spoke. "You – you said that you could not live without me."

He nodded, giving her a small smile. "And that hasn't changed."

She frowned at him in confusion. "I do not understand what you are trying to say." That statement was not entirely true, but she needed clarification on his meaning.

Oh boy, he really was going to have to spell it out for her. "Since you left, I tried to move on. I've dated around, slept with a few really hot chicks – hell, I've even gone steady for a while! But recently…I dunno, things with Zoe have kind of fizzled out. She's a lot like you – maybe that's the problem. _She's not you_. There's this massive hole in my life and it's Ziva-shaped. Nobody else can fill it."

Her dark eyes searched his face as she attempted to process his words, needing to hear him articulate out loud exactly what he was trying to say. Part of her understood, but the rest of her was struggling to comprehend and accept it. " _What are you saying, Tony_?"

 _OK, here goes._ He locked gazes with her and put his hands on either side of her face. "What I'm saying is that I love you, Ziva David. I think I have done for a very, _very_ long time, but I didn't know how to tell you or even that that was how I felt." He closed his eyes for a second, allowing his shoulders to relax from the tension he hadn't realised they had been holding, from the lifted weight that he hadn't realised they were carrying, before looking into her eyes again. "When we were in Tel Aviv, when I said that that was the hardest one-eighty of my life…I wasn't kidding. It really was. It was _way_ harder than anything I've ever done – and that includes telling Senior he wasn't going to have strippers at his birthday party this year."

This elicited a wry smile from Ziva for a moment before her face grew serious again. "Where are you going with this?"

"You don't work at NCIS any more; Rule Twelve doesn't affect us. I've spent so long trying to find what I thought was the perfect woman, but I now know that I was looking in all the wrong places. You once asked me if I believed in soulmates and I gave you some dumb wisecrack, but I've thought about it a lot recently and I think that maybe, maybe I _do_ believe in them." He swallowed hard. "And I know who my soulmate is. You."

The knot in Ziva's stomach tightened unbearably and she closed her eyes to steady herself, ready for the inevitable let-down. "What do you want from me?"

He was going to do this; he _was_ going to do this. "We've spent nearly a decade dancing around this; let's face it, you and I have never been very good about showing each other how we really feel. I love you, Ziva. I need you to know that."

She dropped her head again, scared at the realisation of what he was getting at and fearful of the strength of her own feelings. "I do not think this is a good idea, Tony. Those who get close always end up dead. I cannot do that to you."

Of course. This again. He let out an irritated sigh. "So I don't get a say in it? You know what, I'm done with you making all the decisions about what might or might not be best for us; _I'm_ part of this and _I_ get a say in it too, whatever you might think." He immediately regretted the unexpected volume and harshness of his tone when she recoiled from him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it to sound like that. But you need to realise that this isn't just your decision to make – it's mine, too."

She began twisting her fingers together again. "It is for the best."

"Are you trying to pretend you don't feel the same? Because if you are you're only lying to yourself. I know you, Ziva. I've said it before and I'll say it again – your eyes never shut up."

"Tony –"

" _No_ , Ziva. I won't let you do this. Not again. It's OK to be scared, especially with everything you've been through, but at some point you've gotta take the plunge or you'll spend the rest of your life regretting not taking it." He watched her closely, looking for the slightest hint of what might be going through her head, before letting his voice drop. "You've made your feelings pretty clear, Ziva."

Damn, he had her. She should have known – he could read her so easily still. Taking a deep breath, she momentarily closed her eyes before raising them to meet his at last. "I am not sure I can speak the words out loud," she admitted, searching his face with her eyes.

He nodded. "That's OK. It's a big thing. Take as long as you need."

Nodding, she bit her lip. "So, are we an object now?"

"Object? You mean _item_. Jeez, your English has gotten bad since you left!"

"It _has_ been almost two years," she reminded him.

He nodded. "We're an item if you want us to be."

Her eyes clouded over and her gaze dropped to her hands again. "Then you do not want to be."

Frustrated, he shook his head. "That's not what I said. I want to be with you, but you have to be ready for that, you have to be comfortable with it. If you wanna go slow, we go slow. We take it at _your_ pace."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in an attempt to quell the turmoil of thoughts and emotions overwhelming her. She knew what she wanted, but she did not know if she had the ability to take that step.

And then she found herself being pulled into a deep, passionate kiss by Tony. One of his hands held her head, his fingers gently caressing her cheek; the other hand slipped around her waist, supporting her and pulling her close. She allowed herself to respond, trying to explain through her response how she felt, how much he meant to her, everything she could not express through words. Their surroundings faded into nothing, their whole world centred on just this moment.

Needing air, she was the first to break off the kiss, her breath fast and face a little flushed. That had been…unexpected – though hardly unpleasant. She opened her eyes to regard Tony and reached up with her hand, gently running her fingers over his face, smiling softly as she did so. "Wow," she murmured.

Her actions earned her a smile in return and Tony leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers, relishing the moment, not wanting it to end.

Tentatively, she pulled her head back a few inches, triggering a look of confusion and hurt from Tony; she smiled and, trembling slightly, initiated the next kiss, slower and more tender than the first but still full of meaning.

"Well, it's about damn time, you two!" Claire's voice cut into their bubble, startling them; they broke apart, both their faces reddening in embarrassment. Claire was grinning, two plates, each with a slice of the diner's homemade chocolate cake on them, in her hands. Ziva shuffled a couple of inches away from Tony as Claire placed the cake in front of them – "On the house." The waitress, sensing their discomfort, swiftly departed, leaving the new couple to each other. Ziva rested her head on Tony's chest, allowing herself to enjoy, without pressure, the comfort of his presence; when he wrapped his arms around her, she smiled to herself. Sometimes making that leap was worth it.

*12*12*12*12*12*12*12*12*

Gibbs was in the middle of a serving of pie when he heard his front door open. "Kitchen!" he called to his visitor (or visitors). There was a pause as whoever they were made their way to him, and then they appeared in the doorway. Gibbs nodded at the man who stood there. "Evening, DiNozzo."

Tony shuffled his feet. "Hi, Boss." When Gibbs cocked his head and raised his eyebrows, the agent took a cautious, single step into the room. "I, uh…I thought I'd swing by. Say hi, that sort of thing."

"Something you wanna tell me?" Gibbs took a large bite of pie, his steely gaze never leaving his senior field agent. He had his suspicions, but it was fun to make DiNozzo squirm from time to time. Did him good.

Instead of saying anything, Tony reached back and tugged someone – who let out an indignant squeak – into the room. His hand remained firmly clasped with hers. "We, uh… We're kinda…" Unsettled by Gibbs' stare, his next words came out in a rush. "Look, Boss, we're not breaking any rules or anything, the agency's _or_ yours, I'm not seeing Zoe any more, we're both adults –"

Gibbs got to his feet and put down his fork, crooking a finger and beckoning Tony. Swallowing hard, he shot Ziva a panicked look; she squeezed his hand and then released it. Nodding, Tony followed Gibbs, who headed into the hall and down the stairs into the basement, which was lit only by a single naked bulb.

Tony stopped at the foot of the stairs, hand hovering a couple of inches above the banister. Just in case. He couldn't read Gibbs, had no idea how this conversation was going to go; he held his breath.

Resting one hand atop the wooden skeleton of his current boat, Gibbs turned around and let his gaze linger, inscrutable, on his senior field agent. Silence hung in the air between the two men.

With his dislike of silence, Tony was the first to break it. "You're gonna give me the overprotective-daddy lecture?" He shifted on the spot, feeling his boss's eyes bore into him.

"She's been hurt, DiNozzo. Badly." Gibbs' voice was surprisingly soft and gentle. "Multiple times."

"I know." He scowled, anger rushing through his body as he remembered Rivkin and CI-Ray, how they had treated her, the ring box the latter had given her as "a promise", which had been as empty as the box itself.

"You serious about her?"

 _Always to the point._ Tony nodded. "Oh yeah. Completely." He shifted again. "Never been more serious about anything in my life."

"This isn't just one of your flings?"

"No sir."

Silence again, as Gibbs silently meandered around the boat, before picking up a chisel from the side – the same one Ziva had given him as a gift shortly after NCIS had rescued her from the terrorist camp – and toying with it. After a moment he pointed it straight at Tony, raising his eyes to the agent. "That heart of hers – it's fragile. It's been broken too often. It can't be broken again. You do anything – _anything_ – to hurt her…"

Tony gulped, unable to tear his vision away from the tool, only a few inches from his heart. "You'll skewer me in more ways than she knows how to kill me with a paperclip. Got it."

The steely gaze continued, unwavering.

"Is, uh…Is this the part where you ask me what my intentions towards her are?"

An arched eyebrow.

Tony hated that expression. Still, no time to be vague; he needed to be completely honest and he knew Gibbs would settle for nothing less. "I'm in this for the long haul, Boss. I'd like to ask her to marry me one day, but I think that might be a bit soon right now."

Gibbs blinked slowly at him, then put down the chisel.

Was this a good sign or a bad one? The suspense was killing him. He ran his hand through his hair, trying to channel his tension.

In several steps Gibbs was in front of him. "You take care of her, DiNozzo," he said. "You don't, you know what'll happen."

And with that, he was gone, back up the stairs to finish his dinner. Tony remained in the basement for several minutes, staring at but not seeing the boat while he processed the conversation. He had expected much more opposition from Gibbs – but he also knew that the implied blessing was very definitely conditional.

When his head was straight(er), he ventured back upstairs. Gibbs pointed his fork towards the living room; understanding the message, Tony headed in that direction, where he found Ziva curled up on the sofa, book in hand. Attention caught by the door opening and Tony's footsteps, she looked up and raised her eyebrows, closing the book. She was unable to gauge from Tony how the conversation had gone and she patted the sofa cushion beside her.

Tony accepted the invitation and sat down, placing his hand over hers. "Hey," he said softly.

She scrutinised his face. "How did it go?"

"Well, he silently threatened to skewer me with his chisel while giving me the if-you-hurt-my-daughter lecture."

"He actually said enough for it to classify as a lecture?"

"For Gibbs."

"So he said the bare minimum whilst pointing the chisel at you and making you fill in the blanks," she guessed.

"Pretty much." He held out his arm towards her; recognising his intent, she abandoned her book and snuggled into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and placed a soft kiss in her hair. "I love you, Ziva," he murmured.

The warmth of his words and hold spread throughout her body and she snuggled in closer. Maybe she was taking a huge risk but he was right, maybe she _did_ need to take the plunge. Maybe she didn't deserve this, maybe she did. Whichever it was, this was the choice she had made.

*12*12*12*12*12*12*12*12*

 **~TBC~**


	3. Chapter 3

**For My Sister**

 **Disclaimer:** Not my property. All recognisable characters belong to CBS.

Final chapter. Thank you for all your reviews, follows and favourites!

*12*12*12*12*12*12*12*12*

At ten minutes to eight the following evening, Tony slipped into the green room of the hotel, where Ziva was getting ready for the launch. He found her wearing a simple short-sleeved, knee-length pale green dress and low-heeled black shoes, pacing up and down, twisting her fingers together the way she often did when tense, and muttering in Hebrew, too quickly for him to be able to understand her words. "Hey, sweetcheeks," he said softly to get her attention.

Startled, she halted her pacing and looked up. "Tony! What are you doing here?"

"Shmeil sent for me. Said you were stressed and thought I might be able to get you to relax."

"I have spent the last eighteen months working towards this and the event starts in ten minutes; of course I am stressed!"

Tony stepped towards her and put his hands on her shoulders, looking into her dark eyes. "Everything's going fine. Shmeil's overseeing it. Deep breaths. C'mon, in…and out…In…and out…"

Ziva let herself go along with him, focusing on her breathing and finding herself relaxing as she listened to him.

"Better?" When she nodded, "Told you so. You look gorgeous and you're going to wow everyone out there. And I love you and I'll be right beside you."

She bit her lip and nodded. "I just…" She shook her head vigorously, as though to get rid of the negative thoughts, then met Tony's eyes again. "I want to suitably honour Tali; what if I cannot?"

"Hey! Whatever happens with this, you're honouring her. She's up there watching you, cheering you on."

She nodded. "Is everyone here?"

"Everyone that said they were coming, yeah."

Her eyes saddened a little. "So Abby is not." Tony's silence was all she needed for confirmation.

"But everyone else is – Gibbs, Ducky, Palmer, Breena, McGee, Delilah, Bishop, Jake, the director and his kids, even Dr Cranston…" He gently kissed her and then tugged her hand. "C'mon, let's do this. Just remember to breathe. And if you get nervous, just imagine everyone in the room without their clothes on."

She wrinkled her nose. "I would rather not. For one thing, I do not think Delilah, Bishop or Breena would appreciate it." Taking a deep breath, she focused her thoughts. "I am ready."

Tony leaned down and whispered, " _Ani ohev otach._ "

Allowing herself a small smile, Ziva rested her head against him for a moment before straightening and smoothing down her dress, head high. She allowed Tony to take her hand and lead her to the door until the right moment, then blinked in surprise at the number of people gathered in the room. There was a lectern on the small platform at the front; behind the platform the backdrop consisted of a photo of Tali that Ziva had carefully selected, taken a few weeks before her death, and the symbol that Ziva had chosen for the Foundation: a dove with a Star of David on its chest, flying in front of the Earth. Seeing the image of her sister so large and prominent, Ziva faltered; Tony caught her arm and steadied her. "Thank you," she murmured. Giving herself a mental shake, she stepped away from Tony. "It is time."

At that point Gibbs glanced up and caught her eye, offering an encouraging smile before discreetly gesturing to the man stood by the side of the platform, who stepped up onto it. This movement triggered a hush that quickly spread across the room and the assembled people turned their faces towards the front. The man, who looked to be in his fifties, wore a flattering dark grey suit with a grey-and-blue tie that matched the suit, and stood tall and straight, exuding confidence. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," he began, his crisp, slightly-accented voice carrying through the room. "My name is Levi Goldman and I am your host for the evening. I welcome you to The West Park Hotel and I thank you for attending.

"We are all here for the same purpose. Good is being brought into this world but sadly the catalyst for it has been tragedy, a great personal loss. A great amount of work has gone into preparing for this moment and without further delay I would like to introduce the person who set up the Foundation, Ms Ziva David." He held out his arm in her direction, triggering a round of applause and a mass turning of heads.

Ziva leaned towards Tony and dropped her voice so that only he could hear her. "I have moths in my stomach," she informed him, glad of the makeup that Hannah, her rabbi's wife, had insisted upon earlier as she felt the colour drain from her face.

Tony snorted, unable to help himself. "Butterflies!" he hissed in her ear. When she gave him a confused look, he clarified, " _Butterflies_ in your stomach, not moths."

"What is the difference?" she shot back.

"Butterflies are attractive."

She shot him a look of even greater confusion, then shook her head. "I have to go." She felt him squeeze her hand before releasing it; as he made his way to his seat at the front of the audience, she set her shoulders and strode up to the platform. Her speech had already been placed on the lectern and she stepped behind it, resting a hand on it to focus herself. She waited until the last smattering of applause had died away and drew herself up to her full height. "Good evening, everyone. I would first of all like to thank you for attending this event. It means a lot to me that you gave up your evening, especially those of you for whom this was rather short notice. Tali – she would have appreciated this.

"First, I would like to thank a few people. Levi is an old friend of my father's who left Israel to come to university here, and stayed. I did not originally want to hold this event in such a lavish venue – the Foundation's funds would be better spent on its purpose – but Levi has been incredibly generous and insisted on providing the venue, catering and everything at no cost. He has put a lot of time and work into helping me organise this and I am very, _very_ thankful for it.

"I would also like to thank NCIS Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs. I have known him for almost a decade now and throughout that time he has been the father that Eli David was not, the father that Eli David should have been. I do not have the words to describe how much he has meant – and still means – to me, especially during some of the most difficult periods of my life. Recently he has allowed me to stay at his home while I get back on my toes –"

" _Feet_!" Tony corrected from the front row. Ziva shot him a dirty look through narrowed eyes before continuing.

"– While I get back on my _feet_ and get everything set up so that I can run the Foundation. I will also be going to college and studying to become a formally-qualified interpreter between English and the various languages I speak, which Agent Gibbs has helped me with.

"NCIS Director Leon Vance has been very supportive of this project and I am very glad to have his support and input. He has a few things to say in a few minutes." She glanced at the director, who nodded in recognition.

"There are several other people I cannot name but have helped in various ways. They know who they are.

"Finally I want to thank NCIS Very Special Agent Tony DiNozzo. He and I have been through far more than most people do in a lifetime. Despite everything, he has always, _always_ had my back." She paused in order to regain full control over her voice, which was threatening to crack with the weight of her emotions. Her efforts did not quite succeed and her next words came out as a whisper. "Thank you, Tony."

Tony dropped his head a little, a faint blush creeping up his neck and face. With an uncharacteristic smirk, McGee nudged him with his elbow, receiving a glare in response.

"Levi is the only person here who ever had the privilege of meeting my sister; I wish you all could have done so. She was always the kind-hearted one of the three of us. I once told Tony that she was the best of us, that she had compassion, and that held true right up to the moment she died. She was on her way to a peace rally with our cousin when a suicide bomber detonated. Tali was an optimist, an idealist. She hated our father's job and did not hesitate to tell him so. My choices and actions sometimes put us at odds – which, again, she did not remain silent about. There was more than one fight at school where she told me off as though she was our mother. She dreamed of becoming a famous opera singer and using her fame to bring about world peace. I used to tell her that it was impossible, that one person could not make that much difference, that she should focus on more realistic goals." At this point she paused, allowing herself a small, sad, wistful smile. "But she refused to listen. She died fighting for what she believed in.

"When our father died just over two years ago, a lot of things happened. I found myself questioning everything that I had been doing with my life. I needed a break. So I went back to Israel for a while, to try to let go of the past. But I learned that it was impossible to do this completely. I spent a lot of time with my aunt, whose daughter is the cousin who died alongside Tali, and it was doing this that gave us the idea for the Foundation – I certainly do not need all the money my father left me when he passed and I wanted to put it to good use, to honour my sister. _She_ cannot work for peace now – but _I_ can. I wish that Aunt Nettie was standing up here with me tonight, but she passed away a few months ago.

"The Foundation is still in its early stages, but it is developing. Our mission is to work with people in regions of conflict, to seek peaceful, non-confrontational means and solutions. We are not politically-affiliated; we are a neutral, non-governmental organisation that will work with anyone and everyone who is willing to participate and seek a resolution through peaceful means. I already have two people working in Ukraine to mediate between the various parties involved in that situation and another person preparing to undertake similar work in the Middle East. The long-term plan is to expand much further and to work all over the world – but that is a long time in the future." She stopped and checked her speech, which to her surprise she had barely glanced at. "I am happy to discuss details later, but now I am inviting Director Vance to speak."

The NCIS group and their various partners, along with Dr Cranston, exchanged confused looks. Vance's two children, Jared and Kayla, looked equally in the dark as their father stood and joined Ziva to slightly bemused applause. He straightened his tie as he stepped up to the lectern and gestured with his hand to Ziva. "Thank you, Ziva. I'll keep this brief. Most of you here know that Jackie – my wife, the mother of my two beautiful children – was caught in the crossfire of the attack that killed Eli David and that she too died. Not a day goes by when I don't miss her. Ms David first approached me about the Foundation about a year ago and I told her that I was keen to be involved in it. I made a suggestion that has become part of the Foundation. So now I am announcing the creation of the Jackie Vance Scholarship." He smiled down at his two children, whose eyes widened; Kayla let out an audible gasp, as applause rang out through the room. "It will be open for applications from all children of Navy personnel applying to university for courses that include a year abroad, such as languages and diplomatic studies. The intricate details are in the end stages of being finalised and the application details will be released in a few weeks. We expect the scholarship to be launched in time for September twenty-sixteen entry." He stepped back from the lectern.

Enthusiastic applause rang out through the room and Vance's two children jumped to their feet, Kayla hollering and whooping. Gibbs had one of his rare genuine smiles on his face as he applauded, Tony's face showed that he had been unaware of this aspect, and he, alongside the others, clapped hard. Vance smiled and nodded, then stepped aside, holding his arm out towards Ziva.

Recognising her cue, she returned to the centre of the platform and looked out across her audience. Everyone's attention was fixed on her and she mentally steadied herself. "There has been enough talking, enough speeches; now we are at the place where I declare the Tali David Peace Foundation officially launched."

Thunderous applause broke out, along with several cheers, and she blinked rapidly from the powerful onslaught, stepping backwards. Levi placed a hand on her back to stop her from stumbling and leaned in towards her. " _All done now_ ," he whispered in Hebrew, offering her a beaming smile. She nodded and he moved away to where she had stood a moment before. He waited while the applause began to die down – over a minute – and then raised his hand, waving it to get the audience's attention. When he got it, he stopped waving. "All the announcements and speeches are over. Please feel free to mingle, ask questions informally, whatever. Refreshments are available at the back of the room; vegetarian, lactose-free, gluten-free, kosher, non-kosher, halal and non-halal foods are all clearly indicated. Thank you for coming. _Toda_." He stepped away from the lectern and pulled Ziva into a bear-hug, which she gratefully returned.

The dimming of the lights over the platform caught her attention and she pulled away, giving Levi a heartfelt smile. "Thank you for everything you have done."

"Tonight is not the end of it; you will be receiving continued support for the Foundation."

She felt her eyes prickle and nodded. "Thank you. So much."

"Anything for my favourite unofficial niece." He kissed her forehead and released his hold on her. "Now, you go talk to people. I am very proud of you." He gave her a little nudge and turned to Vance to begin a conversation.

Noting the dismissal and deciding to mull over Levi's statement later, Ziva hurried over to the NCIS group, keen to be away from the centre of everyone's focus. Almost immediately Ducky embraced her. "I am so, _so_ proud of you, my dear," the ME said, patting her shoulder and then stepping back from the hold. His face was beaming and warm, full of pride. "If there is anything you need, just ask."

Ziva nodded, returning his smile. "I appreciate the offer, Ducky." There was a tap on her shoulder and she spun to face Ducky's assistant, Jimmy Palmer, who promptly enveloped her in a tight hug. "I need air…" she wheezed, taken aback by the force of his hug.

Palmer hastily released her. "Sorry, sorry, it's just been so long…"

"I know, but I would also like being able to breathe." She smiled as she spoke so that he knew she wasn't upset. "Thank you for coming."

"Wouldn't miss it," Palmer assured her. "I think what you're doing is amazing and if you need any help, any at all, you just have to ask."

Ziva glanced towards Breena, who was chatting to Delilah. "You are a little busy now with the baby, though, yes? Do not get me wrong, I do appreciate the offer, but at the moment I think I have everything covered."

"OK, cool!" He grinned. "I'm really pleased you're back."

She replied with a genuine, small smile. "Thank you. I am glad to be back, too." As Palmer returned to his wife, she was tugged into another conversation, this time with Vance and a friend of his.

*12*12*12*12*12*12*12*12*

It was after midnight before things began to wind down. Most of the guests had left, including Palmer, Breena, the Vances, Bishop and Jake; only Gibbs, Tony, McGee and Delilah remained with Ziva, sat round in a tight circle. Ziva could feel herself fading, exhausted from a long, busy and stressful day, and was only half-listening to the conversation and saying little. Her head was starting to hurt but she didn't want to let on to anyone.

Two loud handclaps abruptly halted the conversation and the group's heads turned towards the sound. Levi's hands were still pressed together. "Ladies, gentlemen, much as I have enjoyed this evening, it is time for you all to return home. Not least, I promised my staff that this room would be emptied so they could leave at one. If you do not leave soon I cannot uphold my promise – and I am a man who keeps his promises." There was a twinkle in his eye but his face and voice were firm.

"You heard the man," said Gibbs, getting to his feet.

"I could do with some sleep," admitted Delilah. "It's been a loooooong week."

"Tell me about it," agreed McGee.

"Thank you for coming. Both of you," said Ziva, smiling through her now-thumping headache.

"Wouldn't dream of missing it," replied McGee, pulling her into a tight hug. "It's great to have you back." He released her and nudged her towards Delilah.

"You'd better come hang out with us before I go off to this fortnight-long conference in Madrid," Delilah told Ziva sternly, taking her turn for hugs. "Maybe Sunday?"

Ziva nodded. "Maybe." She closed her eyes for a moment and felt herself sway a little.

Noticing, Tony caught her before she lost her balance. "Right, that's it, home and bed for you."

" _Now_ ," added Gibbs.

"I'll call you tomorrow, McGee," Tony promised. He let McGee push Delilah off to his car and then slipped an arm around Ziva's waist to steady her, a little surprised at how readily she rested her head on his shoulder and let him take her weight. "You really _are_ tired."

"Headache," she admitted.

"C'mon, let's get you home." She offered no resistance as he led her to his car and carefully eased her into the passenger seat. She was, he noticed, already falling asleep, so he put her seatbelt on for her. The drive back to Gibbs' was quiet and he didn't initiate conversation; when they arrived, he had to shake her awake. "We're back."

His words penetrated and she raised her head, blinking slowly through the fog in her head. "I did not mean to fall asleep."

"You've had a crazy day; it's completely understandable." He helped her out of the car and into the house. "You want anything?"

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "If you have something for a headache, I would very much appreciate it," she admitted as she leaned against the kitchen sink. "Then I think I would like to sleep. And _not_ set an alarm for tomorrow."

"Sounds good to me." Keeping an eye on Ziva, Tony found a glass and some paracetamol and got her some water before passing the glass and medication to her, surprised at how willingly she accepted them. She was still a little unsteady on her feet, he noted, so he made sure he was supporting her as he took the glass from her ever-so-slightly-trembling hand and put it on the side.

"Sleep," she mumbled, too tired now to pretend that she was anything other than exhausted. She let Tony lead her upstairs and sit her on the bed; the paracetamol had yet to kick in and she let her head drop to his shoulder, her eyes drifting shut. "Now can I sleep?"

He blinked. "Don't you want to get out of your dress first?"

"That requires effort," she mumbled, slurring her words slightly.

"Let me help." He was expecting a snarky retort; when he did not get one, he eased her head off his shoulder. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing deeply, already falling asleep again. "C'mon, work with me here, Ziva."

"Hmmm?" She kept her eyes closed and swayed a little. She felt his hands steady her but she wasn't able to hold herself upright any longer. She could feel sleep slowly claiming her, fogging her brain. Through the fog she could hear Tony talking but his words were unclear; she could feel him extracting her from her cardigan, then turning her to face him. He was talking about removing her dress – that got her attention. She raised her head and forced her eyes open as she tried to process what he was saying. "What?"

"I said, we need to get you into your pyjamas. _Then_ you can sleep. Not before."

"Fine. Will you stay?"

Tony looked taken aback. "I, uh… I don't think the boss would be cool with that. It's his house, after all."

She raised her eyes to meet his. "Please?"

How could he refuse that request, especially with such a beseeching look in those eyes? "Sure, why not. What's the worst that could happen?"

"All that will happen is sleep."

"Yeah, I got that." He busied himself with the task of putting her into her pyjamas, then somehow persuaded her to brush her teeth before guiding her back to the bed. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow. He sat beside her for several minutes, watching her sleep; she looked pale, exhausted, drained, and he promised himself that he would make sure she spent the next few days resting and recovering. In her sleep she reached out for him, mumbling incoherently, and he slipped his hand into hers, giving it a gentle squeeze.

A soft footstep and a shadow in the doorway caught his attention and he looked up to see Gibbs standing there.

"How is she?" asked Gibbs softly.

"Exhausted. Quiet day tomorrow."

"You staying the night?"

"If you don't mind."

Gibbs shrugged, offering him a smile, before turning and slipping silently away. Tony took that as a yes and stood up from the bed to collect his bag from his car and then get ready for bed. It was not long before he was in the bed beside Ziva and he wrapped an arm around her stomach. He thought she let out a sigh of appreciation in her sleep but he was out before he had the opportunity to consider it.

*12*12*12*12*12*12*12*12*

Tony was the first to awaken, to a sunbeam attempting to penetrate his eyelids. Something was on his chest and he looked down to see a mass of dark hair – Ziva was pressing herself into him in her sleep, snoring softly. He could see both of her hands and was relieved to note an absence of weapons. Not wanting to disturb her, he lay there watching her, a small, contented smile on his face. A week ago he hadn't imagined this scenario would ever exist, hadn't imagined that he would ever see her again.

But now it did, and now he had, and as long as he didn't do anything stupid, he would be waking up like this a great many more times in the future. He leaned down and whispered in her ear, "I love you, Ziva David."

Somewhere on the edges of her consciousness, Ziva was aware of something tickling her ear and she turned her face towards it, opening her eyes a little. Someone's face was a mere three inches from hers and she pulled away a little, squinting – then relaxed. It was just Tony. " _Boker tov_ ," she mumbled, English beyond her in the moments immediately after waking.

"You sleep well?" he asked, grinning at her.

She nodded before rolling onto her back, off Tony, and rubbed her eyes. "What time is it?"

"A little after ten."

Blinking in surprise, she pushed herself up into a sitting position, pulling the duvet around herself as she shivered slightly. "I cannot remember the last time I slept this late."

"I can," replied Tony. "Last Sunday. Slept till two. It was _bee-yoo-tiful_."

Ziva snorted. "That is a complete waste of a day."

"It would be to you. I, on the other hand, made the most of doing ab-so-lute-ly _nothing_." He grinned.

Shaking her head, Ziva rolled her eyes and stretched her arms up towards the ceiling, pretending not to notice Tony's appreciative gaze. "What do you want to do today?" When he failed to respond, she turned her head to look at him. Catching sight of his raised eyebrows and tongue curling over his upper lip as he grinned suggestively at her, her eyes sparked. "Not in Gibbs' house!" she hissed. "Get your mind out of the drain, DiNozzo!"

"Gutter, David. Gutter."

"Same thing!" She swung her legs out of the bed and got to her feet. "I am going for a shower."

"Want company?"

" _Tony!_ " When he smirked, she realised he had just been teasing, so she shook her head. "Do you want to call McGee, see if he and Delilah want to do something today? It has been a long time since I saw McGee and I have never properly met Delilah. I would like to – she seems to make him very happy."

Tony's smirk softened into a genuine smile. "Yeah, she really does." While Ziva headed to the bathroom, he reached for his phone and called McGee.

*12*12*12*12*12*12*12*12*

Gibbs returned from Ducky's at around six that evening to find Tony and Ziva curled up together on the swing sofa on the back decking. Tony's arm was around her, holding her close; only her head was visible on Tony's shoulder, peeking up out of the thin blanket wrapped around her. Tony did not have any of the blanket. "Aren't you cold, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked of his agent.

Tony shrugged, then rested his head on Ziva's. It earned him a smile from Gibbs before the older man headed inside; alone again, Tony stroked Ziva's hair. "You OK?"

She shifted, straightening a little as she looked up at Tony, met his gaze and gave him a soft smile. "A little tired, but I think that yes, for the first time in a very long time, I am OK."

"Good." He leaned down and captured her lips in a gentle kiss. The first to break away, he raised his head and caressed her cheek. "I've got you and I love you. We'll be OK."

"Good." She rested her head on his shoulder again and snuggled back under the blanket. "I love you too, Tony." She did not have to look to know he was grinning broadly. She was home, with her family, and she was finally doing something to honour her sister. Contentment, and even happiness, was now within her grasp and she intended to seize it. For her sister.

*12*12*12*12*12*12*12*12*

~fin~


End file.
